Our long walks through the snow out back are physically taxing. Hundreds of steps of lifting my leg and shoving my boot into the next step forward. I don’t always notice the effort until we are on our home stretch, at which point my canine companion has very wisely opted to follow in my foot steps, leaping from one hole to the next, to conserve his own limitless energy.
Yesterday, on our walk, the walk during which this photo was taken, I asked myself to leave my thoughts, by now a Santa’s bag load of thoughts, and return to the moment and focus on the exterior. It was then I noticed the large cold flakes which had settled on the fields from the night before. It was a dusting of several inches of very light large flakes. Among this layer were shimmering mirrored surfaces, caught in the bright sun.
If I hadn’t consciously forced myself to take note, I would not now be recalling this event, very suddenly and vividly emblazoned on my memory. Of course other things pull me into the moment, the biting cold, the dog too, and his attention on smells and sounds, and the fact that I like to keep him within eye and earshot.
Perhaps I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts on our walks as the thoughts tend to be repetitive, with little that is enlightening. Perhaps opening my eyes to the vast tiny world of light, the reflection and refraction is enough.
Andrew Binks 